


Seriousness of purpose

by FortuneSurfer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gangs, Gen, M/M, Magical Realism, Matthew Is A Fairy, Mentions of attempted rape, Paranormal AU, Post-Shizakama, Prison, Randall Is A Werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 11:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15509298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortuneSurfer/pseuds/FortuneSurfer
Summary: An AU in which Randall is a werewolf and thus survives the evening at Will's and goes to prison, where he finds a friend. And it's good, because recently he has been out of luck.





	Seriousness of purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read.
> 
> For Charlotte. <333

He is too lucid, too sane for a psychiatric hospital, and no amount of money can help him get there – nobody is going to commute the sentence of a werewolf-serial killer who has never officially registered. Randall understands it and thus doesn’t object to his family’s lawyers’ futile attempts to negotiate for pills instead of fists, even though he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life sedated.

 

And, of course, he already had a psychiatrist. The best one.

 

Randall has shown himself to the world, shown his blood-stained teeth with the flesh of his human prey in them, and you don‘t get to wear the skin of a perfectly non-threatening member of society once more after that. You just don’t. And, honestly, Randall is relieved, like he has never been in his life. He feels neither remorse for his actions, nor shame for his radiant and powerful nature that drove him to do what he did with such savage unforgettable joy. He feels very superior in court, and he will always remember that his loved ones don’t turn their backs on him even after the secret they had been preserving for so long becomes public knowledge.

 

When his mother says, her voice hoarse from crying, _well, the cat’s out of the bag_ , holding his hands in hers, and his little sister corrects her, _not the cat,_ _the cave bear, mom_ , Randall feels tingling in his nose and tells them that he is going to miss them very much, because he is going to, and this is the only thing he regrets.

 

He is put into a private correctional facility for paranorms – to other “naughty special boys”, as some guard puts it, and – due to a large bribe – into an experimental unit with a carefully managed number of inhabitants and better living conditions.

 

But prison is a prison.

 

It’s an extremely controlled environment defined by the bars in every door frame, and by the walls of allegedly appeasing aqua blue color, and by the polished floors that reflect artificial light which turns on and off after a signal. In this world Randall has a too short bunk bend, non-corrosive toilet and sink, and a half of the space on a shelf. He has no privacy or dignity, because the walls of his cell are made of glass.

 

And they are always watching, from everywhere – those who define this world the most, its inhabitants, its predators. They all are predators in here, and probably nobody in the unit would remain alive if the guards were to take off their collars which block any transformative abilities. But the blood-thirsty beasts still show themselves when inmates rejoice every time someone gets into a fight. And there are a lot of these fights, despite all the efforts of the block administration to ease tensions among gangs.

 

Randall finds himself in one of the gangs on his day one – as a werewolf he swiftly catches attention of the Moon Brotherhood. They assess his size, they listen to his story, they look at him like he is a potential asset, and so Randall gets a chance to prove himself to the Brotherhood by hiding some packages he is strongly advised not to look into. He does it, he passes.

 

It bores Randall out of his mind how human-like their psychology is, even though they have the same gift of pure wilderness as him. 

 

He isn’t at the bottom of their hierarchy, but still, after a couple of days his modest personal possessions are to some degree redistributed, and his face is smashed, simply because Randall doesn’t live up to the expectation that he would willingly suck a cock he doesn’t want to have anywhere near his mouth. He doesn’t say who or why at the infirmary, and so he passes this test, too.

 

Randall is a solitary creature, and he by no means feels camaraderie with other members of the gang, but the Brotherhood is very influential, and it can protect him from the unscrupulous vampire supremacists of the Blood Bound.

 

He doesn't like it, but it’s too dangerous to be alone out there.

 

All loners “belong” to the group which is called the Others – that’s how the administration labels those whose species aren’t numerously represented; other gangs treat the Others with a varying degree of disregard, since the group doesn’t collectively pursuit any goals, and therefore all the individual voices do not matter.

 

Maybe except for one.

 

97P904, Matthew Brown, visually marked as a psychic, works as a nurse at the infirmary and lives in the cell on the lower story, near the block entrance. It takes Randall some time to notice that, although nobody is rendering him any honors, Brown is carefully avoided, untouched even by the always stoned goblins.  

 

One of the older non-aggressive inmates, who are always in the mood for gossiping, tells Randall when they play cards that some chupacabra once tried to get on Brown’s nerves in the cafeteria, to which Brown responded by cocking his head and just staring at him like some fucking bird of prey, and _the guy was sobbing, shaking and wetting himself in front of everyone in a matter of seconds. It was a rapidly induced panic attack. Fairies can do that, that’s why the usually put into solitaries. But they are also very lucky bastards – like, they have a grasp on these things. And no one wants to incur himself any bad luck. Bad luck is the last thing you need in this goddamn shithole._

 

By hearsay, though, that’s exactly what happened to Brown – bad luck – an unsuccessful attempt to murder someone for some kind of ritual involving crucifixion.

 

Randall is intrigued and carefully watches the fairy from a distance: Brown is a quite and attentive one, he doesn't display any fear or shyness, his movements are very smooth and conscious. He is a whole foot shorter than Randall, but he is in a really good form. Watching him doing exercises, Randall catches himself briefly thinking that he wouldn’t exactly mind _his_ cock in his mouth. But Brown doesn’t fuck, doesn’t snort and isn’t subscribed to any skin magazines. He keeps his mind clear, and Randall thinks that he must be doing this with some kind of ulterior motive. Self-discipline is one thing, but if you are for parole in _twelve years_...

 

Randall wants to approach Brown at the library where both of them spend a lot of time, but he changes his mind considering how his move might be reported to the Alpha of the Brotherhood.

 

And then his sister Megan comes to visit him in prison for the first time. Randall doesn’t lie to her but omits the worst parts; he abruptly cuts off when he sees the visitor of Brown on the other side of the dating room.

 

Even if he didn’t have a very good memory for faces – it’s difficult to forget someone who had beat you up so badly that you would have died if it hadn’t been for the extreme regenerative factor of a werewolf.

 

Randall can’t hear what do Graham and Brown talk about, but he shoots glance in their direction from time to time, and he _sees_ how Brown carefully touches Graham’s hand when he rubs his face in a gesture of confusion and/or exhaustion. And he _sees_ how Graham nervously looks around but doesn’t try to get rid of Brown’s affectionate touch.

 

And then Graham _sees_ _him_. 

 

Randall doesn’t look in their direction anymore after that, and a couple of minutes later Megan asks him if he isn’t feeling well, because he is sweat-soaked all of a sudden. Randall says that he is okay and gives her a very tight goodbye hug.

 

He has one day to think whether he really wants to spend the rest of his life locked-up in a cell of a size of a bathroom with a complete stranger, making ugly hessian dresses in a textile workshop and doing primitive favors for primitive criminals. The voice of Dr. Lecter whispers to him the words of support and encouragement, and Randall wants to believe him but doesn’t. After all, he ended up here because of the man. Because he wouldn't join Randall in his hunt. 

 

And so, after the majority of inmates goes to the gym stinking of sweat and rubber, Randall stays in his cell. He knows that this would be a perfect occasion that Brown wouldn't miss.

 

He washes his face in the sink, and when he raises his head he sees in the mirror that Brown came for him. He stands a couple of steps behind him. He has his medical gloves from the infirmary on. Meaningful silence surrounds them.

 

“If it does change or mean anything to you: it wasn’t personal between me and your lover,” Randal says. “I just wanted you to know.”

 

“We aren’t lovers.” Brown doesn’t protest, he simply states a fact, which for Randall is as good as admitting certain interest in the perspective.

 

“Shame. Frankly, you two look cute together.”

 

Randall has decided not to resist – he takes a step towards Brown to simplify the task for him.

 

“I am ready. Do it quickly. After all, we don’t know when the guards will return.”

 

“We have open sewers, they are very busy right now.”

 

“This is smart. It almost feels nice knowing that someone as smart as you is going to be my killer.”

 

Brown curiously tilts his head to the side, looking at Randall like he is not a werewolf but a fucking sphinx. 

 

“You don’t seem to value your life very much.”

 

“You must be brain-dead to consider it a life in here.”

 

Brown’s eyes still take measurements of him.

 

“True,” Brown's face moves, but his stare keeps Randall in place; he feels mildly sedated for some reason. “I am sorry, Randall, but I won’t kill you,” Brown says softly. “Will doesn’t want your death, and I respect his will.”

 

Randall asks himself what the hell do they all find in a sad supercilious fuck like Graham. Out loud he asks a different question: “So what is this all about if you aren't going to put me out of my misery?”

 

And as soon as the words leave his mouth, Randall gets it: Brown wanted to show him his seriousness of purpose.

 

“I have been watching you, too. You are ruthless and intelligent, Randall. I need your cooperation to kill your former psychiatrist.”

 

“Dr. Lecter? Sorry to disappoint but your idea of our relationship doesn’t match the reality of it. I have no influence on him. We aren’t close.”

 

Not anymore, he thinks bitterly.

 

“Not if you are here, no,” Brown agrees with a very calm look on his face. 

 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Randall chuckles darkly. “What could be done about that?”

 

“Tomorrow they’ll transfer you to my cell, and we’ll start to work.”

 

Randall swallows. 

 

“…Work on what exactly?”

 

“On getting out of here, of course.”

 

Randall watches the fairy leave his cell already knowing for whom the attempted ritual murder was for. And not knowing whether Dr. Lecter is going to survive the second attempt on his life. Especially, if he decides to hunt him down with Brown together. And he could try killing Graham again afterwards, couldn't he?

 

The thought makes Randall smile for the first time in a week. 


End file.
